


A Slave to Love

by PeculiarTaste



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Auror Harry Potter, BDSM, Biting, Dirty Talk, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Sex Toys, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeculiarTaste/pseuds/PeculiarTaste
Summary: A polite reformed former death-eater is a stinking heap of codswallop. At least, that is the humble opinion of one Harry Potter, Deputy Head of the Auror Office. The whole magical world might be bedazzled, but he will show them the truth and only the truth!Or how Harry Potter had a run in with his controlling side at the wrong time with the wrong person - repeatedly.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	1. He must be up to something

There were very few things that had been constant in the chaotic dangerous life of the boy who lived. One, his highly invasive and constantly worrying sidekicks; Two, dark Lord‘s after his life and three, a school nemesis always challenging, bullying, fighting, arguing and making a right mess of himself.

"There is something going on with that git.” Harry said to no one in particular and watched Draco Malfoy leave the Ministry’s canteen, where the ‘Golden Trio’ met up for their weekly lunch together.

“Oh, Harry, is that sixth year catching up to you? Shouldn't that be done and over with already?” Harry looked imploringly to Ron, who stuffed his face as if they were still on the run.

“What she said, mate.” Ron gulped down a big bite of his sandwich before speaking. At least his manners had improved tremendously since then, thought Harry, as Ron immediately proceeded to burb _very loud_. "Pardon."

“Ronald!” Hermione reprimanded him fondly, while Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Oh come on, 'Mione. You do remember that I had an impeccable hunch that year. Malfoy most certainly showed his true colors that night.” Harry huffed and returned to his lunch. Why was it that nobody seemed to ever believe anything he said about Malfoy?

“All right, Harry. What do you think he is up to then?“

He did not like the look she had, as if he was a volatile potion and she was Neville Longbottom. A look just designed for him that she had perfected over the years full of funerals, unbalanced family meetings, trials and the great reforming of the ministry. And yeah, he had had nervous breakdowns maybe once or twice. But, that was not reason enough to treat him likes if spun from glass. He was a red blooded male, successful auror and an adult by Merlin! 

“He greeted me.“ Harry hissed.

“So what? Taking your pictures without permission might be a crime today but talking is still fair game, isn't it?” Ron chimed in.

“Politely!” Harry spat. “He must be up to something!” Now even Ron had The Look.

“What?” Harry said. „Stop it! I hate when you look at me like that. It makes me feel like a five-year-old. I am twenty five for goodness sake. You are not my parents!“

Hermione sighed and delicately set down her vinegar-pangasius-arugular sandwich, which she swore tasted like fish and chips while being perfectly healthy. 

„Oh Harry, I am sorry, we know that and we never would want to make you feel bad. But, don’t you think, maybe, it’s just him growing up? The Malfoys didn’t have to go to Azkaban – and that is partly because of your testimony - but their repetition is still in tatters. They simply can’t discredit themselves in public anymore.”

Harry couldn’t take the nerve of that bastard.

“He’s trying to make himself look good in public? That fame leeching bastard!”

“Some of that maturity would also look good on you, Harry.”

Harry couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you taking his side?“

“What he said, ‘Mione.” Ron grunted through sandwich number four.

“No! I mean, maybe? He apologized to me this summer.” She started crumbling her napkin.

“He did what?” Both her companions stared at her. Red spots started climbing up her throat.

“Apologize. Like he truly meant it.” She answered adamantly.

Ron snorted. “Can he even spell the word sorry?“

“Hermione, that must be a trick! He’s just trying to regain favor and then he will invite you to tea and slip in veritaserum and make spill all my secrets and sell them to the highest bidder!” Malfoys always did everything to stay on the winning side. There had been lots of articles about the ‘The Radical Reformation of a Remorseful Rascal’ or ‘Dozens of Donations linked to Malfoy during the war’, or ‘The Transformation of Draco Malfoy – Hidden heroes part 3’. Harry hadn't explicitly searched for any morsel about Malfoy or anything like that, but he had an abonnement of the Daily Prophet as any other respectable wizard. And they still published a lot of tripe. At least, Rita Skeeter had been sacked, in the throes of the reformation campaign and was said to have taken permanent residence in the continent. There was even a new bill that forbid deliberate slander, courtesy of one Hermione Granger, who had been far too smug to not be involved.

“You know what? I don’t think so. I believe, he’s truly trying to turn over a new leaf. He even brought my favorite flowers!” The red spots happily started decorating Hermione’s cheeks.

“You like flowers?” Ron asked flabbergasted.

“Okay, maybe, there was also a book about ‘Relation versus Regulation in Wizarding Society’, but, Harry, I think, the only thing he’s up to now is to change his life for the better.”

“You liked his flowers?” Ron sounded like a broken record.

“Oh, get off, Ronald, it was the thought that counted.” And they started to bicker like the old married couple they were. If a 6-year marriage could be called old.

Draco Malfoy had not shown his ugly mug to the ministry in a long time. There were rumors he had traveled the continent and just returned this year. Others said he had become a vampire through a scheme of the dark lord and was damned to prowl the night forever. He must be up to something, Harry thought, but what could it be?

The next time they met again was in the atrium of the Ministry, where thousands of paperbirds buzzed between and over hurrying wizards and witches. Harry was on his way to the DMLE as he had been for the last few years. Ron had left the Aurors after just a few years to help George with his joke shop and his light out of bounds drinking habit. Sometimes, Harry missed the friendly banter in the morning. As always he boarded one of the elevators and tapped the Level Two-button on auto-pilot.

“Good morning, Potter.” A confident timbre ripped him right out of his daydreaming.

Harry turned and the responding “Good m-“ got stuck in his throat. Instead he opted for glowering.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Malfoy regarded him with an expression of polite interest.

“I have a meeting at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”

“Ah, have your peacocks gotten the rabies, Malfoy?” The blonde still stood regal and unmoved. Inconspicuously, Harry started to look for signs of dark magic.

“Thank you for your concern. All creatures on our estate enjoy a healthy and long life, while being happily pampered.”

“Yeah, I had the pleasure to experience your treatment of house-elves first hand.” The thought of Dobby always held a bittersweet note. Well, undoubtedly he had been absolutely insane, but also a very good and loyal friend. Harry had personally made sure that his likeness was part of the ‘Unsung heroes of war’ now exhibited in the atrium.

“I can assure you that there is no mistreatment of any being belonging to the Malfoy household anymore, or will there ever be.” The last part had a hard edge to it, though his face was seemingly relaxed. Sensing an opening in the Malfoy mask, Harry wanted to continue in the same direction, as suddenly the door opened and a multitude of excited wizards with broomsticks flooded the lift. Harry and Malfoy got divided with a lot of “Excuse me” and “Pardon me”’s and the one or the other elbow hitting soft flesh. Harry wondered for the umpteenth time, why sport teams always needed to share and did not break up to use the many other lifts available.

It was not possible to continue the conversation and with a last polite nod in his direction Draco Malfoy left the lift at level 4.

When Harry went through the doors to the Auror Office, they automatically opened for him, recognizing him as the Deputy Head. Harry only absentmindedly nodded to the greetings and cheers, which arose from various cubicles, plotting how he could conduct a search for dark artifacts or the like on Malfoy without getting into trouble for misuse of authority. There hadn’t been a whiff of dark magic on Malfoy as far as he could tell, but his school rival had been a lot of unsavory things, though dumb was not one of them. Okay, to be fair the Dementor costume had been stupid. At least Malfoy had shown enough sense that no one had realized him working on the vanishing cabinet before it was too late. Even with Harry hunting him like a dog with a bone. The Malfoy heir would not risk bringing dark things to a reformed ministry, especially with the wards for dark magic and artifacts now in place all over the atrium.

Maybe he should put a TrackingTick on him. Those nasty little buggers stuck to the person like glue and could wander to a safer place, when they were in danger of being pulled off or washed away. TrackingTicks could be followed by a special coded charm and were untraceable to common spells themselves. And the best thing was that they were sensitive to dark magic and started sending signals to the charmer, when they came into the vicinity of the darker arts. One of the first things Ron had done, when he started helping George, was offering a special contract for defense items to the Watchers, Aurors, Hit Wizards and the Investigation Department; little gimmicks and charms helpful with hauling the bad guys in and preventing future crimes. Ron felt that after the misuse of one of their own merchandise in the Second Wizarding War, the trickier inventions should stay unknown to the public eye. All Personnel was sworn to a wizards vow, therefore, people only saw the great success of the DMLE and the occasional criminal thought twice before truly rendering himself liable to prosecution; scared of the supernatural success of the War Hero and Vanquisher of the Dark Lord.

Like with all things in Harry’s life, his achievement was only possible due to great minds behind the scenes, lucky items and a little help from friends.

As soon as he stepped into his own office, he was greeted by the curt and no-nonsense voice of Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Office.

“Potter. There was a raid at Greenwich yesterday I do not remember authorizing. Care to explain why?” Their relationship had been - to put it mildly - strained after Harry was announced Deputy Head by Kingsley Shacklebolt. Hermione said that Robards had controlling issues and as she could testify through their long friendship, Harry had subordination issues, a hazardous combination. Harry had no plans to steal Robards place as Head Auror and no problems with the man himself, who was a sharp investigator and knowledgeable teacher, as long as his alpha mannerism did not hinder Harry’s work.

“Good morning to you too, Head Robards. I reckon you did not see the note?” He put up a privacy spell with a swish of his wand and closed the door. The Aurors seated in the cubicles did not need to witness the verbal pissing contest. Proudfoot, snitch of the office, had already darted greedy glances towards them.

“Are you referring to that chicken scratch I found on my desk yesterday?” Gawain was leaning against Harry’s broad desk with folded arms. He had an imposing broad shouldered figure and his notable age due to his graying dirty blonde hair and crinkled eyes demanded respect. After Voldemort and Snape only a few people could intimidate Harry. Robards was most certainly not one of them.

“I apologize if it was unreadable. It had been a recurring offense to one of my Hogwarts professors as well.” Maybe humor could diffuse the tight atmosphere. Once, when Harry had only started as an Auror, one without NEWTS but special connections, mind you, Robards had been a good-natured fellow.

“And you think bad writing excuses an unauthorized raid, how?” Robards scowled; as Harry started his morning ritual of watering the Faux Devil Snare Neville had found to be a hilarious Christmas present and solemnly named Little Sprout.

“Starting a raid is allowable to Aurors if there is sufficient evidence.”

“As I recall, estimating sufficiency is the job of the Head Auror.” Harry felt his temper rising. There were more important things to do, than wanger waving, like, catching dark wizards, playing quidditch or finding out what Draco Malfoy was up to.

“And as I recall, in absence of the Head the Deputy has all clearances, Head Robards.” The sharp brown eyes of Gawain Robards squinted and the suspense climbed up a notch. Harry regarded him evenly and stretched to his whole height, though, he was still a few inches shorter than Robards. He was and never had been a push-over and he would not start now, even to keep the peace.

“Fine!” The Head Auror spat grudgingly and pulled his arms to his side.

“I want the full report before lunch on my desk.” He brushed Harry on his way on the door and his gaze was throwing daggers at him, when he stopped. Close enough for Harry to smell the leather of his Auror battle uniform and the hint of coffee induced sour breath.

“ _Legible_ , Deputy.”

With a swish of robes that could never compare to Snape’s he vacated Harry’s office. Curious glances over their cubicles where instantly diverted when Robards barked:

“Back to work, you lazy folk! There are dark wizards waiting to be caught!” Harry sighed and started on his report.

At their next weekly lunch meeting that Ron fondly called ‘wunch’, Harry started fishing for tidbits of information about Malfoy’s visit to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

“Anything new at the Creature Department, Hermione?” She immediately squinted in suspicion.

“Why are you asking?”

“What? Can't a friend ask a friend how their work went?” He held up his arms in defense.

“Of course, but you both usually start to doze off, if I start talking about work, so color me surprised that, suddenly, you seem very interested.” She pulled a blank face. “Oh.” And took another bite of her shepherd pie.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“I just remembered. We had the most curious visitor yesterday.”

“Really?” He leaned forward.

“Yes, you would not believe who had the audacity to step into our office.”

“No, who?” Harry put his hands on the table and held his breath.

“After all this time and then with such a request!”

“Who was it?” Harry asked breathlessly.

“Fubulius Withering! And after all the work we put into clearing his house of the pixies infestation he just started another colony, because he felt sorry for them. And then he comes running back after a week, because they wreak havoc again.” Harry fell back on his seat with a quiet oomph.

Hermione started laughing.

“You should see your face.”

“Hermione, what the... Could you stop laughing, please?” She just doubled over laughing again. Harry huffed indignantly. Who needed enemies if this was what his friends were like?

“Yes, yes. Very funny. I am a hilarious person. So glad to make your day brighter.”

“You should ask him yourself.” Hermione wiped tears from her eyes.

“I don't know what you are talking about. ” Harry gritted out and started biting into his lunch with renewed vigor.

Ron looked from his wife to Harry and back.

“Guys, you have totally lost me there.”

Hermione patted his hand. “Ah, husband of mine. Some things are better off not knowing. Right, Harry?”

Harry stuffed his face and grunted noncommittally.

After not seeing Malfoy for roughly 6-7 years, suddenly, Harry met his freaking ferret-face everywhere. Malfoy was always so proper, and pleasant and polite, it made Harry want to hex something or someone, preferably someone blond and pointy. Encounters with Malfoy felt like meeting an usually antagonistic cousin who got swapped with the nice but unassuming imperiused infernius-version.

For instance, when Harry went shopping for supplies. Usually, food was bought via house-elves, but Kreacher had gotten so old that he often forgot things or bought the wrong ingredients. Well, it could also be his way of rebelling against the “half-blood master, mistress would be angry, yes”. This had let to a lot of adventurous meals or experimental cooking on Harry's part, until his friends had begged him to go shopping himself or get another house-elf. How wizards should survive without them, was a big mystery to Harry, even when he was a S.P.E.W. at heart, at least in hear shot of Hermione. So, Harry went shopping on his own nowadays. The ire of one becomingly political savvy Hermione Granger-Weasley was to be avoided at all costs.

Harry just packed his bag, which had a crafty extension charm on it sorting the goods on its own, when he heard another customer, an elderly lady with a colorfully feathered hat, start frantically whispering with her lady-friend also sporting questionably head-wear.

“Isn't that the Malfoy-boy, Augusta?”

“You now I cannot see without my binoculars, Harriet, but I reckon with that tall build and his silver locks he just might be.”

“Oh, Augusta, wasn't he in cahoots with you-know-who? Do you think he is dangerous?” Harry could so relate to that statement and spotted Malfoy checking the vegetable area with a thoughtful frown possibly planning their annihilation or whatever else dark wizard did in their down time.

“Harriet! Don't you know he donated one thousand and fitfty-seven pounds for my 'Socks or Clothes for Kids and Elves'-foundation? And he was such a charming acquaintance to make. He even helped knitting some of the socks!” Harry did a double take, he tried to tarn as being surprised to find the eggs next to the preserves. He did not need any eggs. 

“But I've heard from Beth who heard it from Mrs. Bicker-Barnes that the Malfoy's were tried at the Great Tribunal for war crimes. And I will never understand why you gave that good organization such a horrible name.”

“Oh, shush, Harriet. I had already filed the name with the Office of Commerce and Hierarchic Naming of Establishments before I realized my mistake. As my great-aunt always used to say. It is the burden of the wizarding bureaucracy to just name about everything in exhaustive acronyms. And I think Lady Malfoy and her son are just charming. Really, they have the best manners. Though, the Malfoy head, well, that is a very different ...”

“Hush, Augusta. Why, Good day, Mr. Malfoy. The weather is just bedazzling today, isn't it?” Malfoy had made his way from the vegetables to the seasoning stand the gossiping grandmothers were at.

“Mrs. Dalson. Mrs. Brightside. Nice meeting you again on this, I must agree with you, Mrs. Brightside, very fine day.” He bowed formally to both ladies. “I am pleased to hear that your husband got over his dragon-pox episode.” Mrs. Brightside, who had taken Malfoy's side in the argument, giggled like a young teenage girl meeting her first crush.

“Oh, it has been a hard time. Especially with dragon-pox at his age! But I dare say, it was all thanks to your little helpful concoction that he got better so quickly. We cannot thank you enough for your kind help, Mr. Malfoy.”

Malfoy inclined his head and said. “It has been our pleasure, Mrs. Brightside. Mother has always been lucky with her household remedies and had in me a recurrent subject for motherly caring and experimenting. But I am sure that your husband's good constitution and your very hearty meals helped with the healing process more than what we could do. Please send your husband my deepest regards.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Malfoy. Your mother and you should come over for dinner very soon. I would love to thank her again in person.”

“My mother would be delighted. We will set a date via owl upon my return the Manor. If you would excuse me now, Ladies, duty calls.” Malfoy finished with a wink and the 'Ladies' downright blushed. He stepped forward and came face to face with Harry, who had sorted his purchase ever so slowly as soon as the term 'concoction' came into play. The whole conversation had been so full of shit it reeked.

“Harriet, I must concede, he is indeed such a good-mannered boy.” Mrs. Dalson whispered and ushered her lady-friend out of the shop.

“Hey there, Malfoy.” Harry said and continued pointedly. “The weather is just amazing, don't you think? Best English weather. All clouds and liquid sunshine.”

Malfoy nodded. “I was just thinking how great it is to be a wizard, Potter.”

Harry waited for a continued comment on murdering muggles and mudbloods, but nothing came. He could not refrain from frowning at that. 

“So, “ Malfoy started and gestured behind Harry. Ha, as if he would turn and look! He wasn't easily fooled!

Malfoy coughed and let his hand fall. Instead he twirled his wand – his hawthorne one – the vanquisher of the dark lord, not that Harry would ever tell Malfoy that. Harry switched into a defensive stance and let the hem of his sleeve fall, so he could easily holster his own wand if necessary, which certainly would be very soon.

“May I?” Malfoy started again cocking an all familiar eyebrow.

“What, Malfoy?” Harry snapped.

Malfoy coughed again and with another twirl a cucumber, several tomatoes, ginger and beetroots were floating in Harry's line of view. Merlin and Morgana, Malfoy wanted to pay for his groceries not to prank him.

“Ehm, sure.” Harry answered proficiently and stepped aside.

“Well, have a nice day, Potter.” Malfoy ended the conversation and immediately started conversing with the shop clerk. Clearly dismissed and hot embarrassment still burning down his neck Harry left. And he most certainly did not run!

The next instance was again from a complete unexpected angle hitting too close to home and Malfoy wasn't even there in person.

“Did you buy yourself a new tea set? I really like how those animals are moving all over the porcelain.” Harry nipped on the still hot tea and sighed in contentment.

“This set? Well, it was a present actually. My nephew gifted it to me a few weeks ago.” Andromeda responded and reprimanded Teddy fondly, when he distributed cake crumbs on the table all around his plate. Harry stopped with the fork midway and the piece of cake tumbled down to the floor. Teddy started giggling and pointing his little fingers into the same direction.

“Harry is a messy-mess!” He crooned.

“We don't point fingers, darling.” Andromeda gracefully replied. Tonks' wild side clearly had been due to Ted's influence, not Andromeda's.

“Nephew? As in Draco Malfoy?” Harry clarified.

“As in 'who else should there be?' I dearly would hope Bella has not unknowingly procreated.” Usually Harry loved Andromeda's dry humor, but the news were so utterly unexpected he was still reeling from them.

“I thought, you and the Malfoys were not on speaking terms.” Teddy gleefully started dropping his cake to the ground as well.

With a sigh Andromeda levitated the crumbs and said strictly. “Either you eat your cake or not. If I see another crumb dropping I will assume you have chosen 'not eating' and will vanish your piece.” The seven year old immediately behaved. Cake business was serious business. “If the war has taught me one thing, Harry, then, that family can come from unexpected places. And sometimes we cannot choose, where it comes from and must simply accept it.”

Both looked to the happily humming Teddy. Harry's heart always ached for the little boy. How fast he had grown. His parents would be so proud of him. He was a simple and content child, kind and caring. Of course he had temper tantrums and bad days, but Andromeda had done an amazing job and Harry would give his life to be the best godfather there could be. His friends usually taunted him that he was spoiling the boy rotten, but Harry did not care. Better spoiled than freaking alone. If Sirius had been there before..., but those were futile thoughts and Harry had stopped ruminating in the past. Looking back made one's path crooked. And even if Harry had not healed inwardly, he had at least stopped hurting people outwardly.

“So, Malfoy.” Harry said imploringly.

“Yes, Malfoy. You needn't worry, though. It is mostly correspondence. But I must say, he has impeccable taste in chinaware.”

How had people gone from deatheater fear to Malfoy worship? Harry could not comprehend how nobody saw Malfoy cunningly sneaking right back into society. Clearly, his goals were to climb the ministry seat or take over the wizarding world. With that kind of father as a role model and Malfoy imitating his everything countless times nothing else made sense. Harry urgently had to do something about it, but first, he needed to find out what by Merlin's beard he was up to!

The next opportunity arose again unexpectedly at “Friendly Friday”. The group of old Hogwarts friends had dubbed the monthly come together as that and everybody was allowed to bring their own new friends as well. It was mostly for catching up and letting loose. This time they met up at the vougest establishment in Diagon Alley, a bar called “Bezoar Beverages – Choose your poison”.

Seamus, Dean and Ginny were already seated and waved the trio towards them. Interactions with Ginny after The Epic Fallout were just becoming less stillted, though any awkwardness easily got lost in the bubbly chatter of friends with Luna and later Neville with his new girlfriend Hanna Abbott arriving. Sometimes older Hogwarts graduates like Oliver Wood joined the gatherings, but it was mostly Dumbledore's Army and Friends. After the Padma twins sat down and George jokingly extended the table to fit two seats besides him to “start a harem”, Parvati said in a hushed voice: “Isn't that Malfoy?”

Harry whirled around. And in the flesh all 6-something feet Malfoyness were walking towards them. He was clad in an open dark blue set of robes thrown over a cream colored long shirt and dark slacks. Harry could not remember ever seeing him look so casual. Actually, he was trailing behind … Anthony Goldstein? Since when were those two friends? Was he stalking him? Harry pushed himself up but somebody's hand stopped him.

“What?” He snapped at Hermione.

“Harry, please. Make nice, okay?” She said, eyes earnest and grave. Harry gaped at her. He didn't even start anything!

“Hullo, party people!” Anthony shouted over the noisy table. “Look what I found in the snake pit.” And he took Malfoy by his left fore-arm and pulled him forward like it was nothing.

“I present to you our very own reformed Draco Malfoy!”. Somebody even cheered at that. Harry pinched himself to see if he was dreaming. Was this a parallel universe? Had a time turner malfunctioned? His eyes searched Ron, who at least was sensible enough to look as shell shocked as he did.

“Come here, Draco.” Luna said in her usual sing-song tone and tapped at the seat next to her she had kept free. Harry gaped again. Hadn't she been tortured in their cellar?

When Harry checked the table, at least half of his friends seemed not surprised at the very first Slytherin addition to their table.

“Good to see you again, Malfoy.” Neville said. Was that a cosmic joke?

“Yeah, fancy meeting you, again.” Harry growled, when Malfoy sat down next to Luna after waving to everybody on the table, which made Luna their social cushion, as she sat between them.

“True, Potter.” He responded placidly. “The wizarding community has always been so close. Everybody clearly knows everybody.” A tight grip on his arm stopped Harry from gritting out a response like 'Funny, I didn’t see much of you the last seven years, huh?' so he zipped it.

“Hey, Draco.” Luna piped in. “Have you finished the book I sent you?” And now they were pen-pals or something? Book-buddies?

“Ah, yes. It has been most enlightening to the domestic care of endangered beasts. The passage about the moon tribes and use of moonstones with Galanthus Nivalis have been very helpful. I had never heard of them being used in combination to beast care, though, I have never been very adept in this regard.” Understatement of the year, Harry inwardly snarked and chuckled darkly to himself at the memory of Malfoy screeching like a girl when Buckbeak nipped at him. Ron and him shared a look of profound understanding. Ah, memories, memories, Harry thought wistfully and clicked out of the conversations for a minute.

There was an audible lull in the conversations with Malfoy joining, though, a few experimental drinks later the joyful banter was back and Malfoy even seemed to chime in with a few tasteful but pointed comments of his own. Harry could only observe with less and less understanding the total upturning of his perceived reality. The long awaited evening of relaxation and bonding was officially ruined.

When Luna excused herself to the ladies rooms, Harry couldn't stop a glance at Malfoy, who looked right back at him. Readying himself for a staring contest, because Harry had been unfortunately muzzled by Hermione tonight, he was surprised when Malfoy addressed him first.

“So, Potter,” Malfoy began. “I heard you became Deputy of the Auror department. My congratulations.” Sarcastic much? Malfoy would never accept Harry's achievements so easily. What was his angle here? Harry shot him a suspicious look, which rebounded uselessly on the tight knitted Malfoy mask and Harry felt his fingers twitch to rip it off. This level-headed mature caricature of his ex-rival was starting to make his skin crawl.

“Yes, I seem to have a very good reckon with death-eater and dark artifacts. You might remember me defeating Voldemort, which has given me stellar references for the position.” Harry watched closely and celebrated inwardly, when Malfoy flinched at his former master's name.

“Don't be crass, Harry.” Neville said and Harry threw him a hurt look. Why were all his friends backstabbing him today?

Malfoy straightened his already very rigid posture and answered levelly.

“I am deeply grateful for your achievements in the war.” What the actual hex? Who was this imposter? Harry was so close to casting a Revelo or at least a Finite. Malfoy must have been polyjuiced. 

“I am deeply regretful that your father did not stay behind bars.” Harry could not help himself. He couldn't take another minute of this total codswallop.

“Harry!” Multiple voices cried out, but Harry didn't care. If everybody wanted to play house with a former death-eater, fine! Harry knew that there had been exemptions, like Snape, but this was Malfoy and even if they switched sides at the very end and Draco Malfoy was so pathetic Harry could not take seeing a child behind bars, and, yes, Narcissa Malfoy did help defeat Voldemort even if it was for her own selfish reasons to save her super spoiled son; Malfoys still were evil bastards and not to be trusted. He had enough. A simple glass of whiskey before his warm fireplace on his comfy couch seemed more and more promising than this death-eater invasion right here into his closest circle of friends. Immediately, he stood and left the table with a mumbled excuse.

He had just left the bar, when out of the blue a strong grip caught his shoulder. Instinctively, he whirled around, slammed the unknown offender against the wall and pushed his wand against the throat of his taller assaulter.

Three things happened simultaneously.

Firstly, Harry realized there was a few inches taller Draco Malfoy, who had put his hands, where they clearly did not belong. Of course, it was Malfoy. All of Harry's friends knew better than to grip a trained Auror from behind without warning.

Secondly, Harry realized how different Malfoy looked. The greasy hair days were long gone and silver locks were freely tumbling at mid-length around a regal face, which had matured from pointy to strong-jawed with protruding cheekbones; His skin almost glowing in the shade of the street fairy lights.

Thirdly, the mask had fallen. Malfoy's breath audibly hitched and his eyes were open and gaining a darker stormy quality the longer they stood closely pressed together. Harry's heart was still beating hard and adrenaline rushed through his veins like a potent potion. They hadn't been this close since the flight on the broomstick.

Well, actually, there was a fourth thing and it was steadily growing against his stomach.

“Merlin and Morgana, Malfoy!” Harry blurted. “Please tell me that this is your wand I am feeling!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 02/2021
> 
> I just realized that most of the settings involve some kind of food. Is that my culinary interest showing? :D
> 
> As I am not a native speaker, feel free to point out where I tortured grammar or germanized words, I will gladly fix it.
> 
> Fun fact: The Acronym for Office of Commerce and Hierarchic Naming of Establishments only makes sense in German.


	2. He is definitely up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 02/2021 
> 
> Warning: NSFW
> 
> This is where it start getting frisky :D
> 
> I plan to upload a chapter a week (edit: did not work out, but I am going to update soon <.<), so stay tuned. I will add Tags as I go.

Malfoy, honest to Merlin, _blushed_ . Harry felt himself gawking. How was this his life? Apparently, getting slammed into walls and getting aroused was a thing that happened between them now. Of course, _Malfoy_ was aroused. And if Harry was breathing a little deeper than usual it was an instinctive reaction to a perceived fight.

He had never seen Malfoy so meek. Malfoy had always been loud, obnoxious, bratty and at one point gaunt and withdrawn, but never this _submissive,_ not even on that fateful day in the girls bathroom. Something tingled below Harry’s belly button. Most certainly a sign of incoming danger.

“Are you for real, you little pervert,” Harry growled. And Malfoy _shuddered_. Huh, Harry thought. Abort, something screamed inside of Harry's head, which sounded suspiciously like Hermione. Danger, Abort!

“You like that, you ponce, eh?” Harry continued. Abort! Someone seriously should make him shut his mouth. Instead, he stepped closer between Malfoy's legs and pushed him harder against the wall. Something about bodily subduing people was strangely satisfying. Wizards tended to go for their wands first before the used fists.

“Pressed all nice and tight against the wall? Pinned and unable to move? Held by a man at wand point ready to _blow._ ” He felt more than saw Malfoy’s tremor when the last word hit the light column of his neck, fine silver hair swaying on the exhaust. Oh for Merlin's sake. What had happened to Harry’s filter? Someone must have put a spell on him. Though, there was no spell Harry knew that made people talk dirty on their own. And he had never talked to anyone in this manner before; Ginny had hated demeaning stuff like that.

“Did you freaking put a spell on me? Made me drink something vile, you little bastard?” Harry barked and pushed the wand deeper into soft flesh. Somehow the dip of his throat was mesmerizing as flesh gave way to wood. Harry pondered it leaving a mark. Fair people so easily bruised. Malfoy's breath started to tumble and go shorter and while he was clearly frozen, his head minimally moved from side to side in negation.

“Speak, when I ask you a bloody question!” Harry used his Auror voice - at least Ginny had called it that - and honed in on his adversaries eyes. Malfoy jumped involuntarily.

“N-no, Sir.” He croaked. The words tumbling out of his mouth as if pushed by a troll.

His eyes doubled in size and Malfoy stopped breathing for a second.

 _Sir._ Suddenly, the lava molting in Harry's veins dropped south and there was a rushing sound filling Harry’s ears. Everything came into crystal clear focus. Malfoy's slightly flushed face. A drop of perspiration starting to roll down his cheeks. Malfoy's unsteady breath. His openly gasping lips. The last word still ringing in Harry's ear never to be unheard. His lips round and full. Trembling faintly. His lips.

“Harry!” Someone crashed through the door and instantly, Harry took a huge step back. Reality snapped back into place as blue eyes checked for any signs for what had transpired between Harry and Malfoy. Hell, Harry did not want to think about what had happened. Neither the gaze from grey nor blue eyes could be endured, so he busied himself with tucking back his wand into the crafty arm holster George had designed.

“Please excuse me.” Malfoy said, still slightly breathless and when Harry's eyes honed back into him, the mask had returned. Gone was the trembling _something,_ only a faint bruising telling a discriminating story for anyone knowing where to look for. With a whirl and a discreet but audible pop Malfoy disapperated.

“Mate, did you fight?” Ron asked after a moment of astonished silence and Harry felt himself unable to meet his friend’s eyes.

“Yeah”, he replied. “It was stupid. You know, Malfoy _here_.” Ron glanced at him with understanding in his eyes.

“Yeah, I can relate. Weird and kinda hard, huh? With all that happened?”

“Yes.” Harry replied. “Super weird.” And kinda hard.

Harry decided to do the mature thing and occlument that night completely from his brain. But Harry was pants at occlumency, so it haunted him whenever he had time to think. Malfoy had taken a step too close for comfort, right into his circle of friends, and Harry needed to stop him, before anyone else was bewitched. As he had no evidence about Malfoy’s motives, his next step seemed clear. He needed to _investigate._

So, like any good detective one started an investigation in gathering intel and searching for clues. When Harry had worked with Kingsley on the Reformation Program for the first time, he had only a vague understanding of Auror work for what he had seen on a police series on Muggle TV, which Uncle Vernon had simply _adored_. It came as a surprise to Harry that Aurors weren’t actually the equivalent of the police force. Aurors found themselves in the Special Forces against Dark Terrorists Department. How Harry had never met the actual wizarding police - simply called the ‘Patrol’ - before with all the trouble he had found himself in was everyone’s guess, but could only be accounted to dark magic biting at his heels wherever he went.

After defeating Voldemort they had tried all captured war criminals and chased after the remaining Death Eaters, but the Auror count had gotten so low during the war fresh meat was needed to fill the ranks sufficiently. So, with Kingsley as the next minister nobody was surprised about Neville, Ron and Harry being officially initiated as Aurors even without their NEWT’s. Robards had trained them personally for a year in a short version of the usually three-year Auror training, which was deemed enough. The tension in the office at that time - result of everybody being overworked and scarred inside and out from the war – was only overcome by Harry’s title as the ‘Vanquisher of the Dark Lord’. And, surprisingly, seasoned aurors much older than him showed them respect and accepted the reforms Kingsley and his team, including Hermione, had worked out.

A new custom got introduced, so that every Auror had to have a partner, as well as a team, to form a closely knit group. Every team elected a team leader, whom Hermione dubbed ‘Alpha Auror’. The Auror head and the deputy both had to be team leaders as well, though, the Alpha’s formed a council regarding office issues, recruitments and disciplinary actions and the head as well as deputy had the command of all things relating to cases. Also, there were monthly check ups for dark magic influence and psychological sittings with specialized medic wizards. This was installed to prevent future corruption and undertaking. ‘Bonding supervision’ the concept was called and it worked. A little too well, in Harry’s opinion, because Harry’s partner immediately caught on Harry’s investigation and confronted him on ‘acting out’.

Harry’s partner had been Ron as long as he had stayed with the Aurors, then Neville, who also had joined for a while until he was recruited for a position as a Professor-in-training under Professor Sprout at Hogwarts. Harry did not blame them for choosing a more suitable path, but sometimes, he was missing the easy camaraderie. So, for the last four years, his partner had been Mordecai Berrycloth, who was experienced and old enough to be Harry’s father, which led to a very weird partnership dynamic. Especially, as he was a father with two sons and one daughter, who was close to Harry’s age and had been a year above him at Hogwarts.

“That’s not a case we are working on.” Mordecai said, when he ambushed Harry in his office. Harry did not have to stop his perusal of his investigation wall, where he had put up his findings so far, to know that Mordecai’s bushy eyebrows were furrowed and his unassuming brown eyes squinted suspiciously at his back.

“I know.” Harry answered mildly and sent one snippet of the Prophet to his corner of ‘Suspicious Behavior’ with a twitch of his wand. Non-verbal magic was one of the first things Harry had trained hard to master. Dumbledore had been very proficient at it and even if Harry still had mixed feelings about his old headmaster, there were a ton of things he could take for a role-model.

“That’s why I am doing it in my break time.” He pushed one testimony towards the corner of ‘Misconceptions’ at his investigation wall.

“It is called _break_ for a reason, son.” Mordecai continued aggravated. Yep, weird partnership dynamics right there.

“True, can’t you see me breaking down the pieces?” He opted for humor. 

“Yes, smart-ass, and where are those pieces pointing to?” Mordecai deadpanned.

“That’s classified.” Harry turned and smiled - all teeth.

Mordecai’s big hulk blocked part of the sunlight streaming through one of the windows and gave his glower pronounced shadows. Scruff did his best to hide his frown, but Harry knew his tells by now. Mordecai was not amused.

“You have been working on that for days now. That’s a lot of break time, ” his partner remarked. Eliette, his beautiful african wife, called him her ‘grumpy grizzly’ for a reason. Mordecai's caucasian features were smothered in lots of hair and with his height he was horrible at stealth and trailing without a little help from polyjuice.

“It soothes me,” Harry tried, but fell on short ears. 

“You’re looking like shit, son.” Ah, Mordecai in the flesh - brutally honest but confusingly caring, Harry thought.

“I am _fine._ ” he said and turned back to the wall.

There was a moment of stiff silence, only broken by a big sigh.

“Look,” Mordecai started. “I don’t know, what’s having you wound tighter than my grandma’s knickers, but your fuse has been very short the last week and the team may have your back but the Wolves are not your emotional punching ball, _Deputy_.”

There was a reason Mordecai was his Beta with the Wolves. Their team was comprised of six Aurors as every other team out there, but everybody on Harry’s team was old hands at the job and therefore, a force to reckon with. Furthermore, Robards team ‘Eagle’ had jumped on the whole antagonistic tension train between Head and Deput, so there was a rivalry deeper than the Thames between the wolves and the eagles.

Mordecai stepped closer in Harry’s line of sight and gentled his voice. 

“Son, I know a personal vendetta, when I see one. That thing on the wall? That’s not officially approved business. And whatever you are doing with it? It’s making you go off like an erumpent at every corner. That’s not healthy and gives Robards only more ammunition in the long run.”

Harry looked up on his wall where numerous likenesses of Draco Malfoy in various emotional settings stared down on him. The thing is, some part of Harry accused him of being petty and that Malfoy actually behaved like a good little wizard in everything he did. Actually, the only really complete atypical reaction he had witnessed, had been on that Friday two weeks prior, but Harry had sworn to himself to not go there _ever_ , so no more ruminating about that.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Harry relented.

“Oh, so it’s not obsessive stalking of a former Death Eater slash turned public darling?” Mordecai sassed right back. Okay, it was exactly, what it looked like.

“I will take my lawyer now.” Harry felt something close to shame running down his spine again and shot that part of himself down.

Mordecai’s scruff twitched in a hint of amusement and he shook his head.

“You're the boss-man.” He finally relented. “But talk to a mediwizard or your friends.”

He turned towards the door and stopped with one hand on the handle.

“If this continues, I will tell Hermione.”

“Please don’t!” Harry spluttered and groaned, when his partner broke out in a deep belly laugh while he exited his office.

Time to relocate the investigation to after hours. Harry spelled his findings into his portable notebook and followed after his Beta to soothe the proverbial ruffled fur of his wolves. The bite of a pissed off wolf hurt like a cruciatus as Harry had experienced on a few occasions. Not an experience he would like to repeat.

  
  


Thoroughly chastised by his partner and unable to work much on his little private investigation, his next breakthrough was at the annual Weasley Cup. Everybody related or close to being adopted was invited to the burrow for a weekend of family, quidditch and feasting. 

When Harry arrived at the gates a frantic Ron was already dashing towards him. 

"Mate!" He whisper-yelled and took Harry by his quidditch coat to pull him into the Weasley garden. "

„The ferret is here.“ He pushed them behind a green foliage of bushes for privacy.

“Who the heck even brought him?” Harry spluttered while memories of their last encounter resurfaced. No, not think about that.

“He brainwashed George, apparently.” Ron sighed. “So, George told me that one day Malfoy stepped into the shop while I was out and evaded George’s invisible Jelly-Bombs. George sounded really impressed there. Then they started talking about potions and infusing charmed gadgets with them and Malfoy told him that he also started inventing things and was thinking about opening a shop next to us, can you imagine? The following evening, they met up because Malfoy was asking for advice on opening a shop. And now they became best buddies or something. Mate, I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s creepy and I want it to stop. It’s _Malfoy._ ”

“Right!” Harry chimed in. “And suddenly everybody adores him. There is even a society petitioning for mistreatment and abuse of authority at the trials against Malfoy. And don’t get me started on the trend to magic ones hair to platinum blond nowadays because it’s supposed to be ‘classic while flirting with danger’. I don’t get it. He’s a bastard, playing at being everyone’s darling and people swoon. I think, they crave to be fooled! Can you tell me what about his pointy face and arrogant behavior exactly is supposed to be so bloody charming?”

Ron’s freckles stood out starkly against his paling face and he cleared his throat.

“He is plotting something, Ron. I can _feel_ it.”

“Ah, how wonderful, to get insight into the inner workings of other’s minds, as always. Why, Potter, I had no clue you were thinking about me so frequently.” A low voice resounded behind Harry and he whirled around. And there – of course - Malfoy stood, his arms crossed over his stupid tailored robe and his fair hair shimmering in the morning sun.

“You!” Harry blurted without thinking; His stomach suddenly plummeting.

Malfoy's face formed into a moue of mock surprise. “It is I.”

“Yes, Malfoy.” Harry grunted between clenched teeth. “I can see that. You realize, I am wearing glasses? I am not blind. So tell me, what gives us the questionable honor of your presence?”

“Well, me thinks I got invited for a quaint get-together. It’s a beautiful day for a friendly game of quidditch, isn’t it?” He spread his arms and shrugged nonchalantly. The gesture made his dark blue robes stick obscenely close to his torso and split open below his hips to reveal long legs clad in beige trousers. His attire was so prim and proper that Harry wanted to _wreck_ him. Make his polite smile crumble and fall open into flushed harsh breathing and …

An inconspicuous elbow into his side brought Harry back to the here and now. Ron threw him pointed glances – bless his heart. Harry needed to get his shit together like yesterday. What was wrong with him and his increasingly out of bounds thoughts? He shook himself and focused on Malfoy, as a curious glint dawned in his freaking mercury eyes.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “I do understand the friendly aspect of it, as I have been practically family since childhood. And here we are. The last time I checked you abhorred red heads and called muggleborn mudblood. What has changed?”

Malfoy sighed dramatically as if affronted solely by Harry’s presence. “People change, Potter. Though some seem very resistant to it.” He gestured up and down Harry's quidditch gear. “For example, that hair. I never understood how the Potters acquired a fortune on hair products and yours is still looking like a bird’s nest.” A feeling of triumph washed through Harry like having a reunion with a long lost friend. Yes, that was more like it. That was the Malfoy Harry knew and could hate with passion.

And then, his opponent let the nonchalant manner drop like a wet uncomfortable jacket. And Harry felt as if pierced by silver lightning.

“That’s what you are expecting, right? Childish ribbing and name-calling, Potter? Putting everything into black and white, like friends and enemies, as if things hadn’t always been gray?” He stepped forward and something dark in his features made Harry jerk into an abandoned back-step. In moments like this, he was reminded of Malfoy's taller build and he _loathed_ it.

“You think, I am still a miniature dark lord in the making, but – news check – Potter, I am most assuredly not. And you don’t even know an ounce about me. So take your petulant provoking, kindly shove it up your backdoor and _grow_ up!”

“Hey, back off, Malfoy.” Ron came forward and shoved all his respectable height in front of Harry.

“Stay out of it, Weasley!” Malfoy barked with a furious flush side-stepping him. “And you!” He pointed a long finger at Harry. “Stop following me, you total creep, or you will hear from my solicitor!” And in a rush of blue robes he left the garden. Hadn’t he been totally flabbergasted, Harry could have been slightly impressed. But the flourish of robes was so _Snape_ it made Harry’s insides tighten.

Ron gaped and then slowly looked at Harry. “Mate, what's he talking about?”

“I did _not_ stalk him!” Harry said defensively and walked into the opposite direction. Oh, the weekend would be absolute joy.

Actually, the weekend turned out to be great, because Malfoy had left, when they joined the others. And even though Harry had met him literally everywhere lately, Malfoy suddenly vanished without a trace. If meeting Malfoy had made Harry blast through walls, not seeing him opted out to be worse. After a month, Harry snapped and decided to use the TrackingTick he had put on Malfoy in spite of his budding conscience. Private investigation was one thing. Using Auror restricted gadgets was breaking the rules. Rules, which could cost his Deputy status. But following his past experience some rules were better broken, right?

That’s how Harry found himself in front of an unfamiliar wooden door deep in Knockturn Alley on a friday evening, trying to spy the secret password the witches and wizards entering the door seemingly used. Either, the door led to a bar or wizarding club of some kind or all the people were coming together for a secret meeting - a dark wizarding one perchance? Harry felt a thrill of anticipation run through him. Probably, this would be his breakthrough into understanding the enigma Darco Malfoy had turned into. With all the secrecy, it appeared to be very exclusive. The patrons wore glamour or dark clothing and Harry was glad to have decided to wear his black dragonhide boots, dark grey slacks and a black long-sleeves beneath his invisibility cloak. If he tried to mingle indoors, he would not stand out like a sore thumb.

When he finally leaned the password and tapped on the door with his wand in the recognizable pattern, half an hour had already passed. And Malfoy was inside, plotting who knows what. Harry had to hurry.

“Who goes there?” A metallic voice quipped from below. The keyhole transformed into a mouth and the handle suddenly twitched like a long nose.

“A seeker of dark devotions,” Harry answered. 

“That must be your first time, seeker.” Merlin’s beard, there was a core screening spell on that damn door. “Who invited you to the path?”

Harry had three options. Answering truthfully, playing up the passing pedestrian or speaking a name, which could close all doors. Pun intended. The first two options were obviously out, as the meeting was invite only.

“Draco Malfoy,” he answered, hoping against all odds that they did not use pen names. He could always try again later with his other wand or follow Malfoy some other time.

The door knob went silent for a few seconds, which felt like minutes.

“Come in, seeker, and marvel at the jewels of the night. I see you will fit right in.” After these ominous words the door creaked open and Harry slipped inside. He found himself in a dark corridor with blank cobblestone walls, which were lit by black flickering candles. Using his favorite spell, Harry reinforced his glamours and screened the premise for traps. When nothing read as unusual Harry walked down the hall cautiously. Opening a second door he was suddenly enveloped in pounding music and an array of smells. Mellow red light and smoke made it difficult to see. There were moving shadows, some kind of slapping noise and a wide space with low ceilings and lots of furnished cornes or vestibules. Harry readied himself for a fight, even though, he still wore his invisibility cloak and let the door fall shut behind him, stepping behind a wooden beam to his right.

He froze when he found the source of the slapping.

There was a naked man bound to some torturing device in the middle of the area. The contraption was slightly elevated and surrounding the podest comfy couches and seats were placed, in which a few people sat sipping drinks and chatting or watching the spectacle.

Some kind of witch in skimpy clothing hit the man with nine reddish strings attached to her wand to the beat of the music. Harry made an aborted motion to save the poor soul, when he realized something very wrong with the picture.

Sweet Morgana, the victim on the device was clearly _erect_ and his cock was strapped into leather, which slithered over his whole length and testicles.

Harry combusted in shame and embarrassment. For the love of Merlin, his friends had talked about questionable establishments, which could be found in Knockturn Alley. Anthony had even jokingly invited him to come for a tour once. Harry was no virgin and he knew there was more to sex then in and out, but the harder stuff was nothing anybody really talked about outside of crude jokes. But, looking at the evidence he was pretty sure that he stumbled heads first into a BDSM club. 

“Malfoy, what in Merlin's name are you _doing_ here?” Harry muttered under his breath and started to walk down the stairs to circle the platform and look for the elusive blonde. Witches and Wizards were doing unspeakable things in unspeakable positions and with unmentionable devices. Harry felt like watching a bludger wracking a broom: slight horror and morbid fascination. How did this thing even fit inside of the woman on the couch-slash-swing? The next window he passed showed three _men_ getting their freak on.

Harry was already overwhelmed with the male on male action and clearly too much naked skin. And here one guy clearly enjoyed himself and embraced two well-endowed men _at the same time_. Harry could not move for the love of him. Somehow, people knew about gay wizards and witches, but it was not very established and Harry had yet to meet a same-sex couple in his social circle. Deep down, there was a Vernon voice talking about unnatural relationships and freak of nature. Harry hated the word freak with all his heart.

When somebody brushed past him, Harry could deglue his eyes from the sweaty mess of limbs and audible groans of pleasure and continued onwards to avoid detection. There were around thirty to forty people in this club, he mused, how many more were out there in the wizarding community? Harry could remember checking out a few mates in his life, but that was only for comparison purposes. Everybody wanted to see if others were bigger or smaller. Or if the biceps was more defined or not.

After a round of gawking and chrinching at the displays, Harry swore at himself. He was walking around like a bumbling idiot in a zoo full of exoctic specimens and forgot all about being a wizard. He renewed the tracking spell, which had vanished while waiting outside for so long and followed the slight pull in his navel to a dark corner.

If the three men had made him stop before, the display before him brought him close to passing out.

The man was a vision of flexible yet bulging muscles clad in ivory skin which strained against red rope binding his wrists and feet against a table of some sorts - his legs strapped wide into a V shape and bended at the knees to the sides. Somebody had blindfolded him with black cloth and his brown hair - which was weirdly out of place - was a mess of sweaty curls against his temple. His teeth were biting on plush lips Harry found hauntingly familiar, which were pink and gleaming. The skin was flushed from his torso upwards, his chest heaving in rasping breaths and muffled moans. 

The nipples reached upwards as if they begged for touching and had pebbled into enticingly chocolate colored nubs. Harry’s gaze caught on the protruding navel wandering deeper over light colored hair and sharp hip bones pointing towards its price.

Proud and leaking it stood, also bound by red rope at the base, its ends tightened into a playful bow. The penis was uncomfortably pretty. Pink, long and his foreskin pulled back like a decorative shawl. A translucent pearl of liquid was spilling over the plumb head and rolling down over the rounded sides. Harry had never felt so thirsty. Underneath the perineum and shaking testicals - a red shadow dividing the skin - a buzzing black object was pushing leisurely _in_ and _out_ and each thrust was accompanied with a muted grunt.

This was debauched and wickedly filthy. Harry could not breath and everything tingled. And the tightening in his pants could not be.

Because this was _Malfoy._ Or at least somebody looking a lot like Malfoy having Harry’s TrackingTick on him.


	3. Biting off more than one can chew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a few revelations and practices his perfect manners. How does someone bite politely?

Harry felt hot all over. The withering form of one supposedly Draco Malfoy burned his eyes and branded itself into his brain, where it would surely haunt his dreams forever. He could feel the tiny tug in his stomach from the TrackingTick and there was no mistake, even for the darker shade of the probably glamoured hair. Where did the Tick even hide? Harry shook his head to get rid of the dangerous, slightly disturbing thought. 

Before Harry could make heads and tails of the display, somebody brushed past him again, spoke "I seek entrance." and an audible plop spoke of the opening of some kind of magical barrier. A tall, dark haired wizard stepped closely towards Malfoy's table and started touching his erect member, which made Malfoy moan loudly and thrash against his bounds. Harry had a confusing case of instant hate for the man. 

"What a bitch", the wizard murmured lustily. "Wet and begging for cock." He started fondling the quivering balls bound in red and was rewarded with a further moan. Harry felt the itch to kill someone, slowly.

"You ready to be bred, slut? Wanna have my big dick showing you a better time than your little toy?" He started gripping for the rocking dildo. As soon as he touched the toy, Malfoy's husky voice said "Red." and another plop made the wizard fall back on his ass, finding himself dumbfoundedly behind the invisible line. His face flushed an unflattering hue of purple and he fled the scene under the muffled laughter of the few spectators nearby, one jokingly adding: "Hey mate, did you forget the consent rules? I am pretty sure Virgo thought the size of your ego was bigger than your cock.“

Later, Harry would reprimand himself profoundly for his lack of judgement and total brain failure and swear to never think about it ever again. There was no explanation for his next step, or if there was, Harry could not let himself think about it. As if controlled by the imperius curse, he whispered: "I seek entrance" and found himself towering over the withering form of a possibly Draco Malfoy. To demand answers or something. 

He bent over, knowing that the voice glamour held true and whispered into Malfoy's ear. 

"Hello, pervert." Malfoy jumped slightly at that.

"Do you love being stretched open and have strangers salivate over your pretty prick?" If possible Malfoy blushed even more. 

"Huh? Is that it? Being all pretty and blushing like a princess and ready to be ravished?" Harry could feel the ghost off the rounded shell of a well formed ear kiss his lips. It vibrated against his lower lip and felt like tiny pinpricks. Something dark and possessive reared its head and everything came into close focus. The heaving of Malfoy's chest and his quiet gasps. His coloring cheeks were an endearing contrast to the dark blindfold. The smell of magic and wicked promises in the air. 

"Oh, you absolutely crave it, princess. Not knowing. It could be anybody. Somebody might come close and see you and simply take, but that's not all you want, is it, doll? Otherwise you wouldn't have kicked out that unrefined asshole." Malfoy inhaled shakingly. "You want to be revered, to be the center of everybody's attention, to bloom like a rose, while you are deviled  _ over _ and  _ over _ again." Malfoy moaned and shuddered at that. 

"Please _ " _ , he husked, arching his back, displaying the delicate nips and Harry felt water filling his mouth at the sight. His teeth ached to do  _ something _ . 

"Please, what, doll?" He said absentmindedly, watching with twisted fascination as goosebumps rushed over the rosy skin on his exhale, the smell of magic and ozone getting stronger. 

Malfoy stilled and showed his throat in a weirdly animalistic form of submission. 

" _ Please _ , Sir," he croaked. "Take me. Fill me. Want to be crammed full with your seed until I  _ mhhhm _ overflowing!'' 

Harry groaned and felt close to coming in his pants like a bloody school boy. His heart pounded and dampened any sound but the harsh breathing of the wicked creature before him. 

"No", he whispered - his voice a mere rumble. "You have not earned that privilege, you deviant. Why should I give you what you want? What makes you think that you would ever be good enough?" Harry had a weird sense of detachment, as if possessed. All the dark and disturbing thoughts he had always harbored towards Malfoy and thought to be the making of Voldemort's attached soul, rushed forward like an unstoppable avalanche. 

"Nooo," moaned Malfoy, when the thrusting toy seemingly hit a sensitive spot. "I will be good, so good for you,  _ please _ ." He rasped. " _ Sir." _

The word ignited something deep in Harry's core. A smug satisfaction to see the proud Malfoy grovel before him, to see him degraded and humiliated. Pegged down to an incoherent blubbering  _ mess _ . To see him  _ take his place _ . 

"Good", Harry rumbled and Malfoy keened at the praise; His cock jumping in its bounds, while a few drops of his penile fluid erupted similar to a tiny volcano. 

Malfoy started outright begging after that: " _ Sir,  _ oh, please. Let me come! I'll be good, whatever you waaaahnt. Want to please you, want to - aah - mess me up.  _ Mhm _ , so close. So  _ close. _ " The toy started fucking into Malfoy's eager hole in earnest and he started keening like a girl. High pitch moans accompanied by the slippery rhythmic sound of the plunging black cock, getting louder and higher. 

Harry shook all over. There was a cliff right below his feet. One step and it would be free fall. He might crash and burn, but he already burned  _ so _ good. 

His voice rough and  _ mean _ , he barked: "Stop!" Surprisingly, the toy ceased thrusting and floated teasingly over the fluttering hole. Malfoy  _ whimpered _ . 

"Don't you dare come without permission, princess." He growled into his flushed ears, which made Malfoy tremble. "Or I will make you pay. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." Malfoy sounded wrecked. His pretty prick jumping towards Harry like a puppy waiting to be petted. That image must have been the reason why Harry immediately stroked a fingertip over the engorged head, to push the sticky mess back into the waiting drooling mouth on top. As soon as he touched it, something  _ crackled  _ against his fingertip. Harry would later swear that it looked like blue lightning. And Malfoy  _ lost _ it. He keened and thrashed and sobbed incoherently. Looking for all purposes as if orgasming but at the same time not ejaculating at all.

Having pulled back his finger quickly as if stung, Harry couldn't suppress a deep sense of accomplishment settling in his gut at the sight. His touch had done that to Malfoy. His touch and whatever kind of wicked magic was at work here. Electric impulses? 

"You crazy, dirty bastard", Harry murmured with a hint of awe, greedily taking in the quivering, sweating body. Morgana, he wanted to bring him to tears, begging and pleading and… Harry shuddered, his underwear already a tight, wet prison. 

It was not enough, Harry wanted  _ more _ . Until Malfoy forgot his own name and only lived to give his everything to Harry.  _ More _ .  _ Make him yours.  _

He bent forward again and husked: "If you want to come, don't touch yourself without permission, understood?"

"Yes, please. Sir, I'll be good. Will be perfect for you. Please, may I? Wanna suck you so bad." Malfoy turned his head, his mouth a soft wet invitation, seeking for a reward. And that's what made Harry jump up. The picture of his prick between those lush lips being greedily sucked in stuck on replay. Merlin's balls, what was he doing? What was he even  _ thinking _ ? All consuming panic immediately killed his boner and he stumbled backwards.

A "Wait!", made him stop in his tracks. Harsh breathing filling the private space again, but his heart pounding for a very different reason now. 

"Will you… come back?" Malfoy asked, his arms suddenly without bounds and outstretched, but still blindfolded. Sounding crushed and hopeful at the same time. 

Harry's breath hitched. What were words, what was their meaning? His head was filled with white static. 

“I-I don't, I-. What did I-. Excuse me." And then he fled the establishment in an orderly fashion, never to be seen by anybody. 

Harry was a drunken mess before midday. Everything he had known about himself had been uprooted and turned on its head. The Whomping Willow had been more gentle than the sudden confrontation with this  _ twisted _ side of himself. Problem was there were so many facettes, Harry did not even know where to start. And with whom should he talk about it? His friends were supportive for sure, but this broke so many taboos it was impossible to imagine a positive reaction. 

Getting aroused by Malfoy of all people! Nevermind the same-sex attraction and  _ touching his dick _ ! No,  _ no _ , no more thinking about that straining flushed organ, he hadn't been able to get fully soft since last night. And no more thinking about that as well! Harry tried to quench the warring feelings of fear and arousal with a heavy dose of Firewhiskey. At least, there was no work waiting for him today and he could freak out in his apartment in peace. 

Just remembering the filthy words leaving his mouth like no one's business, made him cringe. Molly would be ashamed and scourgify his shuthole for days on end. Nobody talked like that, unless he was a bastard. Harry was one of the good guys. Wasn't he? Another swig burned and overlayered the panic for a second. 

He was! Nobody evil would have sacrificed himself for everybody. 

_ But did you have a choice, boy?  _ A hissing voice said.  _ No less than a puppet of the old fool, manipulated to dance to his tunes like everybody else. You were defenseless, a tool, powerless. Don't you want to be the master of your fate? Take control for once? Make them  _ **_submit_ ** _ …  _

__ "Shut up!" Harry roared. "I don't! I am not like him!!! " 

Silence answered him. 

He stood in the middle of his living room, panting and sweating and feeling like a right twit. He groaned and fell back on his comfy couch. Either, he was going insane, or somebody had cursed him. He jumped forward again, rewarded by a tilting wall and a pounding head. "Ugh," he held his head and gingerly set down the bottle. "Should go slow on the alcohol now." 

A curse! Somebody must have hexed him! And Harry just knew the best person to ask about that! 

"Hey, Harry. What's up?" Said the red head adorned by the flickering flames of the fireplace, before stopping and adding. "Huh. Sorry, mate, but you look like hell warmed over. Wait, did you drink?"

"Shut it, Bill. I'm an adult and allowed to drink when I want to." The scars on Bills twisted, as he wrinkled his eyebrows. 

"What's going on? The last time you drank that early, Ginny had just broken…"

"By Merlin, Bill! No Ginny-Talk ever again." Harry interrupted harshly and immediately regretted the tone. Bill did deserve better, so he brought forth some manners he knew were still hidden somewhere. "Please?"

"That's alright, mate. So? Why did you firecall?"

"I think I got cursed," Harry responded in a rush. 

"Okay? Isn't that an occupational hazard? Already been to Mungos?" Bill's expression was stuck between concerned and mildly confused. 

"No!" Harry's outburst made Bill jump slightly. "Sorry", Harry continued in a softer tone. Poor heightened senses. "It's… personal."

Only the titter tatter of the happy fire accompanied the ensuing silence. 

"Okay, Harry," Bill sighed. "I am not sure what's going on, but if you're drinking and not going to Mungos and calling me on my day off, which I could spend with my beautiful family, it must be pretty important. You know, you can tell me, right? No judgment here."

That was another reason why Harry called Bill and not Hermione. When the big Ginny-Fallout had happened with lots of ugly words and side taking, Bill had shown himself to be a loyal companion in the aftermath. There had been countless nights, where they had sat in silence, beverage in hand, until Harry broke and talked about his hurt, shame, anger and disappointment while sobbing manly. The thing about breaking off long-term relationships is that usually both parties are guilty. It had taken a long time to forgive each other until they could be civil again in each other's company. 

Ginny hadn't been ready to commit to settling down and Harry pushed too hard to finally have a family of his own. Harry had been extremely busy with Auror schooling and Ginny had too much time on hand trying to figure out her future, while struggling with being lonely and neglected. Ginny had been too bossy, Harry too assertive. Harry had drunk too much, Ginny had forced him to rehab. Ginny was messy, Harry too neat. Harry struggled controlling his magic while angry, Ginny was a patented hot head. And at one of their many, many squabbles, where she confessed kissing Dean on a drunken night, Harry had gone berserk with jealousy, his magic lashing out and she had left him. The reminder was forever etched on her skin, a curse scar covering her torso around the right shoulder.

Time did not heal all wounds. But it helped them scar. And forgiveness made reconciliation possible. Ginny was now happily engaged to Dean and a successful upcoming quidditch star. After five years Harry had tried dating on and off, but nothing ever became serious since Ginny.

"Are there curses to change one's… preferred...you-know ?" Harry stuttered and was met by a blank stare. 

"Preferred what?" Bill asked, when nothing else came forth. 

Harry motioned vaguely to his crotch area. 

"Uhm," he harrumphed and squeaked: "Gender?"

"Gender?" Bill parroted and then. "Oh."

"Is there?" Harry said urgently, feeling himself going very hot. 

"Well, that would be more in the reigns of potion mastery, you know, Amortentia and such. How long have you struggled with that?"

Since touching Malfoy, Harry thought and said out loud: "A few weeks? "

Bill's gaze narrowed. "Could you describe the symptoms?"

Harry was glad that his skin did not easily show blushing, otherwise he would have been red all over. 

"Well, uhm, I don't know, it's, I mean, maybe, attraction?" He watched hopefully for any reaction from Bill, who had an absolute poker face going on. 

"And," Harry soldiered on. "Whenever I see him, my blood pressure rockets and I get really weird. And he makes me so angry and I want to wreck him and he is so unfazed until he's not and then I get those really disturbing thoughts and I can't seem to stop. And yesterday, he was so, ugh, and I behaved like a total lunatic. Bill, I feel like I am going insane! It must be a curse! I have never… before.. " Harry gasped, feeling close to a panic attack. 

"Hey, calm down, Harry. Deep breaths." And they breathed for a little, until Harry felt the restriction on his lungs loosen. 

"Well," Bill started. "I am not sure, if you will like what I say. But, you know, that's perfectly normal, all right? It's okay to be attracted to both man and woman. I mean, I am and that has never been a big issue with my family."

Harry gaped at Bill as if seeing him for the first time. 

"You, what?" He croaked. "I didn't know."

Bill seemed surprised at that. "You didn't?"

"Come on, mate, you are married to the most beautiful woman out there. That seems very straight to me."

"I am, aren't I?" Bill smirked. He continued more seriously. "You know, even Dumbledore was gay."

"What?!" Harry squeaked again. 

"Yeah, he told me once, in school, when he caught me making out with Leon that one time in the baths. " He chuckled to himself. "Man, was I scared, close to shitting my pants. I was still figuring things out then. And he did take points - it had been after curfew and Leon was a prefect -, but he also invited me to his office for tea, had The Talk with me and told me about his story a little. I mean, I had it much easier than him with Grindelwald at that time… "

"Grindelwald?!" Harry yelled. "Are you kidding me? Dumbledore got gay for Grindelwald? The evil guy he threw into prison?"

Bill sighed. "Yeah, I've always felt bad for him. It must have been horrible to be so utterly betrayed by the one you love."

Harry felt close to keeling over. Why did nobody ever talk about those things? The whole image of Dumbledore in his mind got suddenly overthrown and showed a more realistic picture. Scorned by his love turned evil, Dumbledore must have thrown himself into the agenda to do good to atone for that. And as far as Harry knew, he had been alone his whole life. A feeling akin to pity rose in him, not taking away his own hurt by the man, but helping to understand him better. 

"Oh Merlin", Harry breathed. 

Bill's head bobbed in sympathy. 

"So, Harry, you see that's perfectly common. I am pretty sure your friend Anthony is gay."

"I thought he was just a touchy-feely guy." Bill laughed. "Nope, I even think he held a torch for you at one time."

Mind blown, Harry was officially mind blown. 

"You don't think it's magical induced, do you?" Of course, it never was that easy for Harry. 

"Sorry, Harry, but not really. If it was, it wouldn't be a magical ailment I know. Actually, it sounds very familiar to me on a more hormonal feelings basis." Harry honed in on the crackling fire, trying not to think too deeply while still processing everything he had heard. A technique perfected over the years. 

"Who's the guy?" Bill's voice reached him as if coming through static. 

"Who?" Harry asked absentmindedly.

"The one you wanted, I quote, 'to wreck'." His disturbingly canine teeth sparkled in a shit eating grin. 

"Gosh", Harry groaned. "Don't say that! I feel so disturbed with myself already. And bullocks, now I am hard  _ again. _ " Bill guffawed. He had a great laugh, all belly with a light huffing noise in between like a great wolf or something. And he was the most handsome of the Wesley's with a great personality to boot. Harry had always wanted to be just like him. Especially his broad shoulders and strong bizeps.. 

"Oh Merlin," Harry blurted mortified. "I think I had a crush on you!" And Bill laughed so hard, he fell out of the fireplace for a moment. 

"Man, you're killing me." He said, after calming down a little. "I always thought, you were pretty cute yourself, hon', but I don't think we would have ever meshed well." And of course he winked, that bastard. Harry groaned again and hid his face behind his elbow. 

"Okay, stop! Enough of that! Wait, why wouldn't we mesh? According to the prophet I should be a pretty good catch." Harry couldn't stop grinning himself. He felt lighter already. 

Bill started stammering a little, which was so atypical, it made Harry pause. 

"What is it?"

"Well," Bill tried again. "I think we are both too… dominant. We would've fought all the time."

"What do you mean?" Harry whispered, his heart suddenly pounding again. 

"So, I always felt, that's the reason why Ginny and you weren't a good match. You both always wanted to come up on top and I think, how do I say that, you need to feel like you have control to be able to let go. Does that make sense?"

Yes. "No," Harry said, feeling himself blanch. He was no better like the others straining for dominance, following their goals never minding the costs. His uncle, Voldemort, the ministry and even Dumbledore. 

"By my core, I think, I am sick." His stomach was churning, bile rising in his throat. 

"No! Harry, wait. That's not what I said!" Bill intercepted. 

"No, seriously, I am going to hurl. Too much alcohol. Thanks and later, Bill." He closed off the connection and reached the toilet just in time hanging onto the porcelain bowl for dear life. 

He was becoming an evil wizard or at least a wicked one. His parents probably already turned in their graves! Harry functioned on autopilot the next day at work, trying to forget the verdict. Bill had tried to reach him, but Harry did what he could do best. He acted like everything was perfectly fine and thank you for the great conversation. In the evening alcohol was his choice of nightcap, while a tiny Hermione reprimanded him not to overindulge. That's how he came to work with the sour residues of a hangover potion in his mouth. He felt haunted and gaunt, not sure what to do with himself and his newfound darkness. His inner musing must have occupied him so much that it was too late too flee, when he stepped into the elevator and a familiar and dreaded drawl said:

"Good morning, Potter. Peculiar, that we always meet like this."

Harry looked up and his brain turned to mush. There he was, perfectly groomed, impeccably tailored robe in a smooth-looking, dark blue fabric, bundled up by a black belt, which helt a few satin purses, the whole pose relaxed and unassuming. And Harry burned thinking about red rope and what could be hidden underneath the respectable robe. 

"Potter?" Malfoy asked and Harry jolted back to reality fluffing up his red robe to hide certain reactions. 

"It's just the second time", Harry grunted. 

"Oh?" Malfoy quipped. "It must have been very memorable for you to keep count."

Harry growled under his breath. 

"Last time you accused me of stalking and now, what? Having a school-girl crush?"

Malfoy coughed and his ears colored slightly. 

"Aw," Harry smirked. "Are you blushing? Do you like being the center of my attention, hm?" And Malfoy proceeded to color all over his face. Harry thought that red was very flattering for his complexion, as something fluttered in his belly. 

"Did you lose all your marbles?!" Malfoy shrieked and pushed him away. "I don't like - !" The rest got cut off with an "Uff!" as Harry slammed him into the wall by his collar instinctively and pinned him there with his bulk. 

"Don't lie, doll", Harry purred. "We both know that you love attention very much." Harry wasn't sure, whose breath got quicker, but he was so close he could smell Malfoy's Cologne and something minty on his exhale. 

"Potter", he breathed. Harry pushed a knee forward and a wicked triumph coursed through him at the answering stiffness at his hip. Blood rushed through his ears and the same feeling of possession came over him as the last time. Malfoy's lips were parted invitingly and his pink tongue peaked through slightly crooked teeth. However teeth could be charming, Harry did not know, but he felt quite taken in by them. Harry's right hand wandered without explicit permission and he could feel the crisp remains of a botched up shave under his fingertips, when he suddenly heard something crackle again and Malfoy gasped. 

Fascinated, Harry examined his fingers. They looked no different then unusual. Thick and knobbly with callouses and tiny scars. A typical auror's hand. When Harry returned it onto Malfoy's shaking jaw, something  _ buzzed _ beneath his fingertips as if licked by tiny kitten tongues. Malfoy tried to muffle a moan without much success. 

"You can't", Malfoy whispered, staring transfixed on Harry's mouth.

Harry felt unreasonable irked at that comment. How dare Malfoy question him! Even though he already knew his place! Always playing games and challenging him!

Harry gripped a handful of hair at Malfoy's nape and  _ pulled _ , which was rewarded with another moan. He put his mouth close to the red tinted ear and growled. 

"To be very clear here,  _ Malfoy _ . You don't pull the shots, doll. You don't want this? Say red. And I will leave you alone. But I dare you to stay, if you want it. Show me you can take what I dish out. If you agree, you will shut your pretty trap and start following orders like a  _ good boy _ ." Harry would show him. And Malfoy would bloody thank him for it! 

Malfoy made a choked noise beginning to tremble. Harry heard the rustle of their clothes, felt the belt and the pouches uncomfortably poking his belly, as well as the intriguing vibrations, whenever skin touched skin. There was harsh breathing and sweat started pouring down Harry's temple and the slight up motion of the elevator reminded him of floating. It was an unearthly feeling similar to the incident at the club. His instinct tingled with the promotion of something unfathomable and  _ dangerous _ . Seconds dragged to minutes and Harry was coiled like a predator close to pouncing as soon as his prey showed weakness. 

When Malfoy gulped and closed his eyes in clear submission, Harry struck with a triumphant growl. Their mouths clashed together and Harry readjusted the position with the hand still tangled in Malfoy's soft locks soliciting a groan into Harry's mouth, which Harry took as a chance to thrust his tongue in and  _ plunder _ . 

Every touch was like lightning, zapping over his nerve endings, enhancing the feeling of  _ wet _ ,  _ hot, rough.  _ Nothing in his 25 years of life had prepared him for this. It was like nothing Harry had ever felt before. Ginny's once beloved kisses and all those strangers in his life were a ridiculous imitation in comparison. 

They devoured each other. Malfoy went pliant, whenever Harry pulled his hair, bloody  _ whimpering  _ at every tug. But he always came back, fighting for dominance with his lips and tongue and teeth, until Harry pulled away and bit into the soft flesh of his vulnerable throat. Lightning in his mouth and yielding salty flesh under his tongue, Harry growled in warning: "Submit."

And Malfoy bloody melted into Harry's hold. He would have fallen on his knees for sure, had Harry not pinned him with his whole weight against the wall. A rush of triumph like never felt before cursed through Harry's boiling blood. Who cared, if this was dark? It felt absolutely  _ amazing _ . 

A playful "Ping" broke Harry's reverie and a shocked gasp followed by a horrified exclamation:

" _ Harry James Potter _ ! What in Dagda's name are you doing?! Let go this instance or, I swear by the order of Merlin, I will hex off your bollocks!“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so proud, there is some personal growth here! (Not only porn....but there is also porn) I have never written anything as explicit as that and have no personal experience in BDSM, kindly correct me, should there be any issues...
> 
> I try for about 10 pages for each chapter, but I did not have any more patience for more and my sick-leave will be over tomorrow, so here you go. I have added the "sneak-preview" back to this chapter, should you get a sense of deja-vue.


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